Tipping the Scales: Everyday Goddesses, #4

By Faith O'Shea

Minerva Holt's pretty turned up nose says a lot about her. There were some days she thought she might drown in a soaking rain because of it, but she was stubbornly unwilling to change her opinion on some things. Like the man who'd just opened up a food truck outside the courthouse, even though his baklava is to die for. 

Simon Iraklidis could tell she was persnickety and it wasn't just because there was money in the way she walked. All she needed was a crown and a scepter to complete the resemblance to royalty but he wasn't about to pay homage.  

But when Minnie's friends suggest she go for some zing, her bodacious southern charm becomes apparent. The switch from buttermilk to bourbon with a ninety-proof twist does more than tempt Simon's taste buds. Can he work up the courage to take the first sip?

Minerva Holt's pretty turned up nose says a lot about her. There were some days she thought she might drown in a soaking rain because of it, but she was stubbornly unwilling to change her opinion on some things. Like the man who'd just opened up a food truck outside the courthouse, even though his baklava is to die for. 

Simon Iraklidis could tell she was persnickety and it wasn't just because there was money in the way she walked. All she needed was a crown and a scepter to complete the resemblance to royalty but he wasn't about to pay homage.  

But when Minnie's friends suggest she go for some zing, her bodacious southern charm becomes apparent. The switch from buttermilk to bourbon with a ninety-proof twist does more than tempt Simon's taste buds. Can he work up the courage to take the first sip?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faith O'Shea
• Release date: Sep 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734733648

Book preview

Tipping the Scales

Minerva Holt’s pretty turned up nose says a lot about her. There were some days she thought she might drown in a soaking rain because of it, but she was stubbornly unwilling to change her opinion on some things. Like the man who’d just opened up a food truck outside the courthouse, even though his baklava is to die for.

Simon Iraklidis could tell she was persnickety and it wasn’t just because there was money in the way she walked. All she needed was a crown and a scepter to complete the resemblance to royalty but he wasn’t about to pay homage.

But when Minnie’s friends suggest she go for some zing, her bodacious southern charm becomes apparent. The switch from buttermilk to bourbon with a ninety-proof twist does more than tempt Simon’s taste buds. Can he work up the courage to take the first sip?

Praise for Faith O’Shea

Faith O'Shea is a contemporary women's literature writer who loves writing about romance, magic, conviction, and loyalty, with strong women and the friendships they build. She has created many series of stories to make us laugh, cry and feel empowered and writes in a voice that speaks to women of all ages. Faith believed there were subjects and life that needed to be written about. ~ Loyce M.

I truly love the Everyday Goddess series. The strong, leading women characters, in this day and age, are inspiring to me and keep me coming back for more! The books are light, fun, extremely relatable and I can't put them down! ~ Kathryn B.

I just finished the Fire and Ice series. It had romance, strong friendships between the women characters and complex stories that were clearly very well researched. Loved all of them and looking forward to the goddess series next! ~ Gail N.

Everyday Goddesses

One extraordinary café and a circle of magical friends

Magic Bean Café

Rhea Cronun is feeling like Cinderella these days, but still isn’t looking for a prince. When Aisin Leehy strolls into town, he tempts her with more than flowers and candy, but even the fairy in her back yard, hasn’t cast the right spell. What will it take to convince her, he’s exactly the right fit?

Once There Was a Tree

Gwenhwyfar Cronun has lost everything that matters to her, her job, her arm, and her purpose. The ex-army vet is convinced she has no fight left in her, but when her former Captain, Ioan Sayer, moves into town, she quickly reverts back to fighting form. No way is she letting him back in, no matter what he promises. He’s out to soothe her dragon’s fire, but will she let him?

Tipping the Scales

Minerva Holt is picky when it comes to finding a man, although she’d rather call it discerning. She is a judge after all. Although she’s intrigued when Simon Iraklidis parks his food truck outside the courthouse, she’s not willing to lower her standards, not even for his baklava, which is heaven inspired. Will Simon be able to prove he can satisfy more than her sweet tooth?

Tipping the Scales

Faith O’Shea

Copyright 2020 Susan Faith Campbell

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in all form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known of hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in an information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author, Sue Campbell writing as Faith O’Shea at [e-mail]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Jaycee DeLorenzo at Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

Formatted by Woven Red Author Services, www.wovenRed.ca

Tipping the Scales/Sue Campbell writing as Faith O’Shea- 1st edition

ISBN eBook: 978-1-7347336-4-8

ISBN Print: 978-1-7347336-5-5

To My Readers

I’ve been asked what inspired me to write the Everyday Goddess series and I have a couple of stock answers. I love writing about women’s friendships. I love developing interesting characters.

The more truthful answer—It’s time.

Women are finally coming into their power and it is way past due. We are soaring through a variety of glass ceilings and it’s something to celebrate.

I’ve spent years reading and digesting all I can about the Divine Feminine. It resonated at a soul level, and many of the sources I’ve tapped into over the last two decades are showing up in this series from goddess herself, through the names of my eight wonderful, strong women, to books I’ve read by authors such as SARK and Clarissa Pinkola Estes, to the documentaries like the Burning Times.

For me, this is a personal act of empowerment, a re-grounding of the sacred wisdom lost over thousands of years. The purpose and intent of this series is to help usher in the energies of the Divine Feminine, at a time when they are sorely needed. Change is necessary and transformation becomes possible if we remember who we are, and where we come from.

Minerva, the woman at the heart of Tipping the Scales, embodies the mythic dimension of wisdom and justice. I hope you enjoy her story.

Faith

CHAPTER ONE

Minerva Regina Holt sat at her desk, her face in her hands. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she dispensed with her two-minute break, and got back to work.

She’d come in earlier than usual this morning to attend to the growing number of files on her desk and had thought she’d made some inroads before court started at eight-thirty sharp. After returning to chambers for their noonday recess, she was caught off guard. The pile had multiplied yet again, and she’d have to spend her down-time sifting through another dozen cases.

As a family court judge, she had no shortage of paperwork to wade through. Each case presented its own set of quirks and problems, yet all were in need, of resolution. By her. She hadn’t necessarily wanted the role. It had been imposed on her by her father, the former governor of Virginia, the state she’d originally hailed from. The venerable Thomas Stilt Holt had thought she needed a hand up the ladder and had been more than willing to supply it when her career at Mansfield, Hurst and Holloway, one of the more prestigious law firms in Boston, had stalled. She’d been one of the more talented among the stable of young attorneys working at the high-profile firm but had been passed over for partner, a male colleague making the grade instead. She’d hadn’t been the only one upset with the bias. Her father had been totally pissed that someone was holding back his daughter due to gender so he spread a little kindness in her direction.

Anyone who knew anything, knew that an appointment to the bench, had to do with timing, politics, contacts, and luck. In her case, her father had talked to an old buddy, who knew an old buddy, who pulled some strings, and here she was, ensconced in a private chamber all her own. It was a smaller office than she’d had at the law firm, but it was better appointed. Her desk was her great-grandfather’s, a solid dark mahogany, that she’d been gifted with upon her appointment, not that she could see barely a glimpse of the shiny wood beneath the accumulated paperwork. She’d loved arguing a client’s case in front of judge and jury, and had been exhilarated when she’d won, which was often. If things had worked out differently…

She looked around her cluttered space, knowing she wouldn’t be here.

On the bench for over a year now, she still wasn’t sure she was cut out to be Solomon. She might sit on the same kind of throne, but she couldn’t use the same kinds of tactics, even if she wanted to. So many who came before her over custody and visitation issues, treated their children like pawns in a chess game. Men and women in the midst of divorce, battled for the spoils of war gained during a marriage gone wrong like the gladiators of old. She sometimes found herself involved in the minutiae of family dysfunction. It was at times infuriating, at others depressing as hell. There was only so much she could do, only so many hours in the day, many spent on culling the files in preparation for the hearings. If it wasn’t for her secretary and law clerk, she’d get no sleep. There were peer judges who wielded full control over their schedules, spending more time at administrative tasks than was necessary. At least in her humble opinion. Not that she had any such thing. Humble was not in her vocabulary and probably had a lot to do with the demise of her disastrous first marriage.

She glanced up to see her secretary, Novia Lopez, approaching with a thick file in her hand.

A dark-haired Latina, she was a powerhouse, full of energy and with the type of organizational skills needed to run the office. Minnie didn’t know what she’d do without her.

Novia dropped the file and said, disgruntledly, This case got bumped over to you. The participants are arriving for a two o’clock meeting with Judge Edwards but he had to leave early on some personal business.

Personal her ass. He was known to skip out when he didn’t want to be bothered. He’d done it to several of his peers before, usually the newest members of the bench, and she was sure it wouldn’t stop until someone stopped it. It wouldn’t be her.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t fit to be tied.

He expects me to come up to speed, in— she glanced at her cell —just over an hour? I should send it back just on principle.

Trust me, if it wasn’t a case involving three kids and an abusive father, I would have told his clerk he could pound sand. Whatever decision you render will be more compassionate than that old fleabag.

She began reading the top form, a history of appearances and the orders that went with them. As she did so, she asked, Do the children have an advocate?

Of course. It’s Ruthie. Might as well be Lil for all intents and purposes.

She was right, seeing that they worked for the same advocacy center.

Lilith Varsela was her best friend and judicial cohort, a child advocate by trade. If Lil came before her in the courtroom, she was pressed to hear the case without bias. It was hard seeing that they were usually on the same side. Because of their relationship, her judgments had to be written with sparkling clarity, and her reasons for the decision had to be well-defined. She’d be damned if anyone accused her of favoritism. Ruth Pendleton was cut from the same cloth and if she got her talons into a cause… Minnie heaved a heavy sigh. If she didn’t give it her full attention, Lil would have a meltdown and they weren’t pretty.

Great. Add it to the docket.

Minnie began to browse through the motions, memos, hospital reports, and affidavits. Judge Edwards had given custody to the father, a violent man, from what she could see, because he met the financial qualifications. A few months ago, the mother had retained the services of another attorney, one whom she thought Lil or Ruthie might have offered up pro bono, and the woman was back seeking redress. And full custody.

Novia leaned her hands on the desk. It looks like the man found another woman willing to guard the whipping post. It says he remarried last year and his current wife is pregnant with their first child. She’s now a stay-at-home. I bet she quit because her husband told her to. He likes them needy.

Seemed so. The man wielded power like a conductor wielded a baton. The documents laid out what the man had done to get custody. James McCarthy had emptied their bank account and left his ex-wife Mary, destitute. She’d had to go on welfare to subsidize her minimum-wage paycheck, and that’s when he went in for the kill. Judge Asshole had awarded him the spoils.

She read the reports written by the advocate, including the interviews Ruthie had with the three children, ages eleven, nine, and six. All three of them wanted back with their mother. Now it was her job to decide if Mary could manage it, find her the right resources if she was borderline. It was another case of the mother on trial instead of the man who tried to destroy her.

Patriarchal law in full color.

Once she’d perused the new file, she put it aside and picked up another. She recognized the name as soon as she opened the folder. The couple had been here before, for the same reason. The father traveled around the globe as a business consultant, making visitation with his daughter sporadic. Last time they came before her, he’d wanted to take her to France. This time it was Lisbon. The mother was blocking it, suggesting strongly that the father would not supervise their daughter well-enough for such an extended stay internationally. Her affidavit included several instances when her daughter had been forced to call her during local visitations because the father had either forgotten about her or had been called away on business, leaving her alone at his condo. This was the couple’s third appearance this year, and it was only June. What was more troubling was that the father seemed determined to undermine his ex in front of their daughter, casting her as the villain.

Without looking up, she said, I need to speak to the girl’s attorney. I know the minor wants to go, who wouldn’t, but I don’t think it’s in her best interests. The mother can’t be expected to fly to Portugal to retrieve her if he acts irresponsibly again.

She should be here soon. I’ll set up a meeting with her in chambers.

Minnie would set up the guidelines yet again, same as last time, only today she might go one step further and give the father a bit of advice for the future. The man thought he could talk the balls off a pool table, but he’d learn soon enough that she was the cue stick. She’d clear the table before he got the chance.

She glanced at the time again, wishing she wasn’t controlled by it. When she wasn’t hearing cases, she was researching or reviewing what her law clerk had unearthed. She had to reserve part of her day to draft orders and spend time analyzing which interventions strategies such as mediation, custody evaluation, or family conferencing, would be applicable and appropriate. She was even on call for after hour emergencies one week every nine months and her turn in the barrel was coming up at the end of the month. At least it wasn’t scheduled for the week she was hosting her friends on their goddess night. There were eight, no nine, of them who came together once a month for wine, conversation and laughter. She kept forgetting they’d just added another member to the group last month. A transplant from California, Miko would take her turn hosting their monthly gathering at the end of the cycle, and Minnie had to admit she was looking forward to the Japanese tea ceremony promised. As she chewed on her pen, she knew she had to start thinking of some kind of meal and ritual to serve up. She was going to have a hard time topping Gwen’s. The army vet, who swore she couldn’t boil water, had actually cooked a meal, then gifted each of them with an icon, a symbol of how she saw them. Rhea had been given a medallion with stalks of wheat, Lil a lioness, Cerri a labyrinth, Hina a spiral, Miko a crescent moon, Brigid a bird, and Ina a bee.

She fingered hers. It was the blindfolded Lady Justice holding her scales, a symbol of Athena, who mediated opposing forces with power and wisdom. Minnie had promised that she’d wear it every time she took her seat at the bench, and she had.

She heard hurried footsteps and looked up to see Sloane Puglisi, her law clerk, come bustling in, a ream of stapled paper held against her chest. With skin the color of burnished honey, her long, dark hair worn loose, her clerk had an endless amount of energy that she used to Minnie’s benefit.

Here’s the research you wanted on the Meyer case.

Minnie sighed at the cumbersome packet. Not only did she have to stay ahead of the curve on judicial matters, but she now had to bone up on the new federal tax codes so she’d be prepared for the case scheduled for tomorrow. Alimony was going to be a lot more complicated than it used to be which meant messier for her. In the past, the person paying alimony was granted a tax deduction on a hundred per-cent of the monies paid. They were no longer allowed the subsidy, which meant there were less dollars available. It also meant there was less of an incentive to pay it.

Thanks, Sloane.

She flipped through the dozens of pages, knowing she’d have to use toothpicks in her eyes to get through the dry material. She’d never realized that the job would demand such a complex set of skills and knowledge. Sure, it made it challenging, but it could quite easily become burdensome.

Sloane, ever conscious of her propensity to skip lunch, asked, Did you order in?

Minnie shook her head as she scanned another problematic memo, muttered, I never got to it.

She’d turned down an invitation to have lunch with Judge Milano, a peer and friend she’d dined with on occasion. She was one of two judges she interacted with, the other being Judge Provenza, a wizened fount of wisdom and purveyor of justice. Judges had to stick together. In her case, she stuck with women. She’d never realized how cloistered her life would become the minute she took her oath. Everyone wanted to be friends with a judge, and the motivation behind it bred concern, so any socializing she did was confined to a group of her peers, her tribe being the exception. Those relationships had existed years before she donned the robe, and she wouldn’t have allowed anyone to prohibit her from maintaining them. The only snag was Lil. As a lawyer and advocate, there could be no sign of quid pro quo in the courtroom. What they talked about outside those hallowed walls though was no one’s damn business.

Sloane was straightening up the sideboard where her coffee cup from Magic Bean sat empty and unattended. After opening the small refrigerator to the side and finding it empty, Sloane said, with a sigh, You haven’t been on a cooking binge lately, have you?

Minnie cooked only when the mood struck, but when it did, she went overboard, filling the entire weekend with the creative urge to fill her coffers. She’d stock her freezer with all sizes of containers and eat out of it for as long as they lasted. It was either feast or famine. She was going through the famine stage at the moment.

No. I haven’t been in the mood for it. It’s been too nice out to be cooped up in my kitchen.

May rains had been swept away by the balmy breezes of June, and in her spare moments, she was enjoying the warmer weather.

Sloane, in her inimitable way of taking care of her, said, Let’s see if I can’t grab you something.

She nodded without thought as she resumed her perusal of the documents in the abusive father’s file. Steam was rising as she flipped page after page of hospital reports and doctors’ memos.

Edwards, you son of a bitch. You just handed these kids over to a monster and didn’t think twice.

She was mumbling to herself when a man came barging into her private quarters.

Hi. It’s Minerva, isn’t it?

She looked up, the heat in her cheeks beginning to burn. Not wanting him to know what she was thinking, she barked, It’s Judge Holt to you. And what the hell are you doing here?

In case you forgot, I’m Simon Iraklidis. We met at Magic Bean. I’m a friend of Aisin’s.

She didn’t need him to jog her memory. He was an unforgettable kind of man but it didn’t mean he was welcome.

You can’t just waltz in here. Where’s Novia?

She was supposed to be the sentry at the gate, keeping unwanted visitors out.

He looked behind him as if wanting to confirm, There was no one out there.

She must have taken five to grab some lunch which meant Minnie was on her own.

Please, leave. I have work to do.

He hesitated, his expression shifting like a kaleidoscope, from diffidence to understanding, to determination. Brazenly, he took another step in rather than out, like she’d ordered.

I’ve been dropping off samples of what I’ll be selling out of my food truck. I have a slice of spinach pizza and some baklava for you if you’re willing to try it.

Reluctantly, she studied the delicate one-bite appetizer and the gooey mouth-watering treat and felt her stomach, ache. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until he proffered the filled phyllo goodies. Unwilling to look him in the eye, she gave him a short directive.

Fine. Just leave it there.

She was pointing to the edge of her desk, the only spot where there was mahogany showing.

She pretended to go right back to the file but watched out of the corner of her eye as he deposited it, placing a thick pad of napkins underneath, so it wouldn’t stain. The piece of baklava was tempting and her taste buds had come alive. It wasn’t the only one of her senses that had, which caused her no shortage of irritation.

With a wave of her hand she sent him away and only when he was gone did she look back up at the doorway. Then eyed the paper plate. Then the doorway again.

She felt deeply unsettled and it wasn’t because a stranger had been allowed to walk right in.

The man had cropped black hair, dark deep-set eyes, and his neatly trimmed beard did nothing to hide full lips. His nose was the only flaw about him. It was thin, the bump at the bridge the only definition.

Sloane came back in carrying an apple and a banana. Who was that? And can I have him?

There was a flash of annoyance with the question.

He’s a friend of Aisin’s.

Aisin was her friend Rhea’s man, and he seemed to be backing every new enterprise in Eden these days. It had all started with Magic Bean, Rhea’s marvelous new coffee shop.

The man’s opening up a food truck outside the courthouse and I guess he thought dropping off samples would be a good form of marketing. Her eyes took in the succulent bites. I think they’re Greek specialties.

She didn’t like what she was feeling and covered her discomfort with an observation. I didn’t know we allowed salesmen into the facility.

You know very well the building is open to the public and he’s technically not a salesman seeing that he’s giving it away for free. And he obviously wasn’t carrying a gun or he wouldn’t have gotten though the detectors.

Sloane eyed the napkin. I scrounged these up but I bet those will taste better. She licked her lips and added, I love Greek food, almost as much as Greek men.

Sloane had been with her since day one in her official capacity, and they’d gotten close over the past year. She often heard of Sloane’s weekly sexual pursuits. There wasn’t a nationality the woman didn’t favor.

You need to stop sharing your fantasies with me.

In a pique, and against her better judgment Minnie reached over and tore off a piece of the phyllo dough and put it in her mouth. It melted on her tongue, the flavors of oregano, thyme, and feta bold, hitting all her taste buds with a bang.

Sloane stood, her arms folded against her chest, a smile on her face. Can’t help it if I’m an open book. Besides, you don’t get out much and someone’s got to add spice to your life.

Minnie licked her fingers, before wiping them on one of the napkins Simon had supplied.

A book I wish you’d close every once in a while.

Sloane braced her hands on the desk and leaned in. She whispering conspiratorially, He’s hot. Admit it.

She downplayed her reaction to the man, which was no different than the first time she’d seen him at the café. It was way off the charts.

I’ll give you lukewarm. Maybe.

Sloane looked at her over her tortoiseshell glasses, glaring. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you had a heart of steel and a total disregard for the male species. Have your eyesight checked. Then maybe you’ll appreciate that particular member.

I see just fine.

Whatever. Your loss. Beauty is beauty no matter what it’s wrapped in.

With that, Sloane scooted out. Only then did Minnie let her mind wander back to the Greek. There was something about him that made her feel uncomfortable. If she didn’t know herself as well as she did, she might call it lust. He had muscle, but it wasn’t offensive. And he had a tattoo, the type of art that didn’t normally turn her on. But in his case…

There was a knock on her door and when she looked up, Novia said, It’s time, Judge.

Minnie got up, put her heels back on, straightened the skirt of her suit, and slipped into her black robe. After walking around the desk, she arched back, snatched up the tiny piece of baklava and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes closed as the sweet combination of honey, walnuts and sugar satiated her palate. Sweets were her downfall. So were men who were no good for her.

If his food truck ended up just outside the courtroom walls, she had a sinking feeling she’d just hit the double perfecta.

CHAPTER TWO

Simon was irritated when he walked away. Judge Holt’s chambers had been his last drop-off but he shouldn’t have bothered. At first glance, she was a vision, her blonde hair tied back in a tight bun, leaving lustrous curls to tickle her cheeks and a slender neck that was as graceful as a swan. But the distaste in those sea-green eyes gave new meaning to her slightly turned-up nose and a clear warning as to her disposition.

The day he’d met her in Magic Bean, she’d looked at him in the same way. He’d gone in to discuss his business plan with Aisin Leehy, and she’d shown up with a redhead who was more Amazon than woman, but she’d at least smiled when they’d been introduced. Okay, maybe it was the judge thing like Aisin had said and that Minerva had to remain aloof and cool, maintain a dignified persona that fit her position but a smile cost nothing. He shook it off. Her attitude wasn’t going to make or break him, and if she never bought a thing from his truck, he wouldn’t lose sleep over it. There had been other members of the judicial who’d loved what he was offering and had promised to stop by once he’d opened. It was somewhat ironic he’d be setting up shop outside a courthouse. His dislike of judges was on par with his dislike of prisons. The judiciary had power and used it, but not always in a good way. Justice was blind some days and he had the scars to prove it, but it had the foot traffic he’d need to bolster his customer base.

Shaking off the lingering annoyance, he rubbed his eyes of grit. He’d been up late into the night at the commercial kitchen he had to rent, per town ordinance, creating his specialties, hoping that it would pay off. He was already deep in the red, and his small paycheck from Jimmy’s Tavern, where he worked a few nights a week as bartender, would barely cover his personal expenses. It was a good thing he’d learned to live frugally after his two-year stint in jail.

He winced at the memory but he had to own it. In hindsight, it had been a god damned stupid mistake that he’d never make again. The police record he’d accumulated had been part of the problem. His older brother, Adrian, had tried to keep him under control while he was living under his roof, but he’d always had a wild streak, one that had been tamed behind those prison walls. He never wanted to repeat the experience and worked his ass off to make it on the outside. Meeting Vasilios had been a miracle and working in his restaurant had turned him around better than anything else could have. He loved the kitchen, loved the smells, the tastes and he loved making people happy. If he could make a success of the truck, maybe he could open the restaurant he wanted. It already had a name. Delos. And he envisioned it open and filled with customers. He even had the location scouted out, but he was still a ways off from leasing the space, and who knew if it would still be available when he was ready. That it was an odd layout might help his cause. He was giving himself six months, until the end of the year. If he couldn’t make it here in Eden, he’d move on. To where, he didn’t know. He liked the town, liked the people, and wanted to make it his home. Desire and reality had to intersect for that to happen.

Hey, Simon. Wait up.

He turned to see Niall Graeme coming toward him. He was a homicide detective he’d met when he was behind the bar at the tavern. The cop came in a couple of nights a week when he wasn’t working a case and they’d gotten to know each other fairly well. He was the one who’d suggested he drop by the courthouse and hand out his wares, accompanying him for better access. Niall had introduced him to lawyers, judges and staff who he thought might bite.

Simon couldn’t hide his surprise. You’re still here.

Yeah, I bumped into a friend of mine and we’ve been shooting the shit. How’d it go?

Better than I expected. There seems to be interest.

Did you get to meet any of the other judges I suggested? They tend to look for quick and good during their short recesses.

I met a couple but mostly dealt with their staff.

Even better. They’ll be the ones who pop out for a quick lunch for their bosses.

Simon shook his head, still not understanding Minerva’s recalcitrance.

I’m not sure about Judge Holt’s staff. She might draft a restraining order against me.

Niall hung his head, bit his lip. She’s actually one of the best judges here although she doesn’t give me the time of day. I have a history with her best friend that’s prevented her from being… more than civil with me. Loyalty runs deep with some of the women in town.

Does it spill over to your court appearances?

Niall ran a hand through his long, tousled hair. "No, like I said, she’s one of the good ones. Starts on time and controls her courtroom with an iron fist. She’s fair, decisive and accessible. And she has a heart, even when there’s a chill